April 20th, sunny, the weather was bright.
The early spring temperature still carried a bit of chill in the air.
As Nan Wan stepped out of the prison gates, she caught a whiff of fresh lily fragrance.
It was Xu Moyi and Shen Zhimei; the car they drove was filled with lilies, even the trunk was full.
The moment Xu Moyi, who had been waiting outside the gate since before dawn, saw Nan Wan, her eyes began to redden, filled with a stinging sadness, "…Sister."
The prison guard was not a stylist, just cut her hair short, with no sense of fashion.
She had this neat shoulder-length bob ever since she was in the first year of middle school.
In her memory, her sister had always been the goddess with long, flowing hair.
"What's wrong?" Nan Wan smiled, "Does it look bad? That's unscientific; with my face, no hairstyle should be a problem."
